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Rosé tastes nice, even out of Styrofoam cups.

Friday May 05, 2006.     By Zinny Fandel

Food Feed

Steamer had been warned. Kind of. Last summer we worked our way through a good 50 bottles of Riesling, and this summer I needed something a bit less nectary. Something like, oh, rosé.

I had avoided the beverage on principle. The extent of my pink-drink consumption starts and stops with the pink grapefruit juice in my grandmother's fridge. But nose-in-the-air Zinny had a thing or two to learn. A rose is just like any red—it's just exposed to the grapes for a shorter period of time, which keeps it from turning garnet and, in my untrained eyes, worthy.

But I have turned over a new leaf and found my latest obsession, so I stopped at Provenance Food & Wine with the hope that it would have something rosy waiting for me. What I found was a $9 Chateau Haut Sarthes Rosé (snatched from the love-it 10-under-$10 table) fronted by a written recommendation that proclaimed it perfect for spring sipping.

And, because the best spring sipping is done outdoors, Steamer and I headed to El Potosi, 3710 N. Elston Ave., a bright yellow shack I had deliriously passed on the last, hungry leg of a 40-mile bike ride last summer and, quite literally, thought I might have imagined. Perched on the edge of Elston, it looks like a structure straight out of Mexico, a small, one-room building with a large covered porch in front. Steamer and I rode up, grabbed a seat and whipped out our bottle.

I've been on an uncharacteristic Mexican kick lately, but El Potosi is nothing like Dorado or Rique's Regional Mexican Food. There, you have tablecloths, wine glasses and entrees. Here, you get a paper menu that packed with a la carte basics: tacos, burritos, tortas and tostadas, which top out at $5.25. Big appetites can fork over an extra dollar or so for a combo (includes rice and beans) or break the bank on one of the few dinners, like half a steak with a stuffed pepper, rice, beans, salad and tortillas for $7.95.

We placed our order (a pollo torta for me, a milanesa torta for him, plus a lomo (rib eye) taco. Ready to break open the wine (we had brought our own wine key, which seemed wise) we were presented with a giant plastic bucket of ice and two Styrofoam cups. So this is how we roll.

The rest of the evening was wine-in-Styrofoam-cup perfection. It's almost impossible to ignore the lazy, vacation vibe (the kitchen was hustling, for sure, but the waitress only got up from dining with her own family to check on us, and entire families were just chilling with cold Bud). The cold part was key—our ice-packed bottle of wine stayed perfectly crisp. And, though the unusual glasses made savoring the flavor a wee bit difficult, I've found my second true love: Rosé is easy like Sunday morning.

So easy that we happily munched on just-fried chips (the red and green salsa are kept in squeeze bottles, making it easy to coat each chip with the perfect amount) without thinking much about our order. But when it arrived...well, I just might have found my third love.

I had requested avocado on my torta, basically a Mexican sandwich packed with beans, lettuce, tomato, sour cream and, in my case, chicken. The dark meat's salty edge was a heavenly match for the creamy beans and avocado, creating a burst of flavor that's almost indescribably good. I snuck a bite of Steamer's milanesa (breaded steak), but the flavors were so different that I immediately returned to my own plate.

I had to take a breather between halves: It's a pretty hearty sandwich, and the avocado I requested came out in chunks, not slivers, but I managed to polish it—and the wine—off. We soaked up the atmosphere for just a bit longer before I went in to pay our best-ever tab: a shocking $10.43. So cheap, and a good thing, because the next time we come back, we're staying for a while—so we'll need two bottle of the pink stuff.

Zinny Fandel's tales of living the (mostly) BYOB life are intended to be attempted at home and in the community, preferably at BYOB restaurants. If you know of a BYOB spot she simply must tipple at, let her know.